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End Times

There is a library book box in the school yard I often walk in these days. One evening, I noticed that the door had come off its hinge and fallen to the ground. The following day it was back in place. Someone had noticed and come back with the tools to fix it which was nice to see such signs if normalcy. And I heard a story form the life of an undocumented American as I walked back home. I had mixed feelings about the narrative for a variety of reasons, but these lines resonated with me:  

 A few years ago, my father experienced heart failure. This was the moment I had been preparing for my entire life. Everything that had happened to me since I took that New York-bound flight 24 years ago had been preparing me for this moment. Learning English, getting bangs, gaining weight, losing weight, getting the sick puppy from the pet shop-- all of that happened to prepare me to this point. 

 Documented or not, this is likely true for many immigrants whose parents had to make sacrifices so an American dream might come become reality. I have a couple of friends who are coping with their parent's end of life challenges. Every day brings a new setback, anxiety and hopelessness. Despite the ordeal, they find satisfaction in being able to do more than they might been able to do for their parent had they never come to America. 
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